Sargtlin
by Haeru
Summary: what makes a true drow warrior?
1. Restless night

Disclaimer: I do not own Dark elf trilogy nor any of it`s characters. If I did, Dinin would still be alive.  
  
Before you start you should know that this is my first fic. So, plz don`t expect much (that way you won`t be disappointed :)) You`ll probably think it`s boring, incoherent, grammaticaly totally incorrect... to sum it up - not worth reading. But I really hope to improve with time.  
  
About the title: Sargtlin means warrior in the drow language.  
  
Other translations:  
  
Xas - yes  
  
Nau - no  
  
Piwafwi - a magical cloak  
  
Melee-Magthere - drow academy of warfare  
  
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Ch 1: Restless night  
  
Koranon sat up in his bed.  
  
`What`s going to happen tomorrow? What if he`s better than me?´  
  
Thousands of questions ran through his head, consuming his thoughts and allowing him no rest.  
  
`What if I lose?´   
  
For start, he knew how imaginative his sisters were when it came to `teaching him a lesson´. Undoubtly, they would think of a long and ruthless punishment.   
  
And Matron Mother? Cold sweatdrops appeared on his forehead as he thought what her reaction might be.  
  
`Nau! I won`t lose. I can`t...  
  
I mustn`t lose...´  
  
He jumped out of the bed and reached for his sword-belt. A second after, sharp blade was drawn out with astonishing swiftness. Not a slightest sound was heard. He took a couple of swings to pluck up courage, to prove himself he can do it.   
  
He ran his finger over the cold metal. His first sword. It was given to him two weeks ago by Matron Quarya herself, together with the new piwafwi.   
  
Normally, he would have been thrilled. Drow females, especially Matrons, treated males as expendable, replaceable objects. And that sword was high likely the only thing he will ever get from her.  
  
Beside the taste of her whip, that is.  
  
But still he wasn`t used to the heavy weapon. And losing that fine balance between the fighter and his weapon has prove to be fatal on many ocassions.  
  
He remembered the day she called for him. All he could think of walking down the corridor was what had he done to deserve upcoming torture. For that was what he expected.  
  
No,he wasn`t a paranoid; he was a drow. And he was a male. Life in Menzoberranzan thought him that this was more than a sufficient reason to never walk out of that room alive.  
  
With his eyes obediently on the floor he entered the vast room.  
  
`Come in,Secondboy!´  
  
The voice belonged to his mother, Matron Quarya. Koranon hardly knew what she looked like. Seldom was he allowed to lift up his sight. But one thing he did get to know extremely well - the stinging bites of her whip.   
  
Even now he could see it, hanging from her belt - a five headed snake., always ready to tear smooth skin of his shoulders and back. He couldn`t even remember how many sleepless nights he spent, filled with burning pain and stiffled screams.  
  
`Look at me, Koranon!´ - she ordered.  
  
He slowly lifted his head up, but his eyes were still diverted.  
  
`I shall feel those five heads dug into my flesh whatever I do.´ - he was convinced.  
  
The only question was whether to continue examining the floor and thereby disregard her order, or to look at her and be punished for disrespect.  
  
`I said LOOK AT ME,Secondboy!´ - Matron was getting annoyed.   
  
`I shall not waste my day over a male!´ Her final word was dripping with despite.  
  
Koranon choose his second option. Slowly he looked in front of him. He met her blood-red gaze and lingered.  
  
Instead of a whip she was holding a sword-belt and a piwafwi. Drowing the sword out of it`s sheats, she slowly started towards him.  
  
`In a fortnight you will have to prove you`re fit to be a drow warrior.´ - she stated handing him the weapon.  
  
`Until then, I don`t want to see you doing anything else but practising. You shall walk, eat and sleep with this sword in your hand. Understood?´  
  
`Xas, Matron Mother. But...´  
  
`But what?!´ - she frowned.  
  
`Well, I never practised with this sword.´ - he wasn`t sure why she gave it to him; when Melee-Magthere already had dozens and he was used to most of them.   
  
`I practised with every sword in Melee-Magthere, maybe I should fight with one of them.´ He tried to explain.  
  
`You won`t be fighting in Malee-Magthere!´ - she interrupted, constraining herself from hitting him for contradicting her.  
  
` The fight will be held in our practice hall. You will be given all necessary informations on time. Now take this piwafwi and get lost if you hold your puny life dear!´  
  
Koranon felt he pushed it too far. He shouldn`t have questioned her decision. Taking the cloak and the weapon-belt, he bowed and promptly left the room, not leaving her time to change her mind and unloose the whip.  
  
Now, when only short hours stood between him and the bigest challenge in his life, he wished he didn`t have to fight. Not that he wasn`t good in wielding sword. His teachers would say much more than good - excellent, as the matter of fact. He was the best in his class for the last two years.  
  
But something just didn`t feel right.  
  
Why is the fight being held in their own house?  
  
Why nobody never told him the name of his opponent, explained the rules?  
  
So many questions and no-one to give him answers. He dared not facing his mother again and everybody else claimed they knew nothing. Nor did they care.  
  
`What is she hiding from me?´ - he wondered as he lay back, placing his hands behind his head. His ruby-red eyes turned black as he switched to the normal spectrum, hoping to find his rest in the utter darkness which now embraced him. But sleep wouldn`t come to his troubled mind.  
  
~~  
  
Matron Quarya soundlessly entered the house chapel. The vault was supported by high pillars,each of them adorned with spider-shaped ornaments. In the centre of the vast hall stood the `orlenggin´ - a sacrificial altar. As she was approaching it she started an unholy chant - a prayer to her dark deity, Lloth - The Spider Queen. With her help, her youngest son will prove worthy that day.  
  
The time has come for Koranon to become a warrior. And drawing another dark elf`s blood was the first and biggest step to becoming one.  
  
He never killed in his life, and Matron clearly felt Lloth`s growing discontentment. Quarya wasn`t going to risk losing Spider Queen`s favour.   
  
The boy must stain his hands with drow blood.   
  
If not, he must die.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I still have to finish second (final) chapter. Plz, let me know what do you think. Should I even post the next ch? There`s no point in writing the whole story if nobody will read it. 


	2. Path of Lloth

Some more translations before we start:  
  
Lloth kyorl dos! - Lloth guard you!  
  
Lloth tlu malla, jal ultrinnan zhah xundus! - Lloth be praised, all victory is hers!  
  
A `dos quarth, Ilharess! - At your command, Matron!  
  
drider - half spider/ half drow  
  
Ch 2: Path of Lloth  
  
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Koranon nervously glanced towards the door. A silent curse escaped his lips.   
  
`Just what in Nine Hells was going on?´ - he wondered. `Where is everybody?´  
  
They should have been there half an hour ago. He was playing with the thought of leaving in a sign of a protest, but he knew better. His mother would personaly turn him into a drider for such act. And she would enjoy every second of it!  
  
Doors opened wide and Matron Quarya entered the hall. He immediately knelt and bowed his head low.  
  
`Stand up!´ - she ordered, not wishing to waste more time then absolutely necessary. To her this was no more than unavoidable formality.   
  
To Koranon - a matter of life and death.  
  
`I apologize Matron Mother, but still I haven`t been told anything. And I have been waiting here for some time now. Perhaps my opponent will not be coming?´ - he asked, the colour of his voice revealing his inner hopes.  
  
`Don`t hold you breath!´ - she scowled. `He arrived already. Your sister will escort the guests in any time now. Have you...´  
  
`But, will nobody tell me his name? Which House does he belong to?´  
  
Abruptly he stopped after seeing his mother`s face, suddenly steaming with anger. He dared to interrupt her.  
  
In any other ocassion she would have beaten him senseless. But situation was different that day.  
  
`I will not punish you now for your conduct.´ - she snarled.  
  
`But if you ever do it again...´  
  
She deliberately left the sentence unfinished, leaving the end to his imagination. It didn`t take him much to start creating horid images in his mind. Koranon just nodded, not being sure if he was permitted to speak again.  
  
His oldest sister walked into the room, followed by another female. A Matron, judging by her appearance and behaviour. But whether of the lesser House or higher one, he could not tell. Finally, a young drow stepped in. A long sabre hung from his belt, and Koranon wondered just how skillful this drow was. He was sure though they never met before.  
  
`This is Tee`nea Shearen, Matron of the House Shaeren, the seventh House of Menzoberranzan. And this is Dyr Shaeren, Elderboy of the House Shaeren.´  
  
`Seventh House?!!´ - Koranon thought as he bowed to greet them both. Suddenly, his all hopes sunk. `I won`t stand a chance against him.´  
  
`It`s time.´  
  
Matron Quarya turned to face her son.  
  
`Winning is your only option.´ - she stated below voice, sensing his reluctance now when he found out whom is he dealing with.  
  
`Lloth kyorl dos!´  
  
Then, rising her voice again, she addressed Matron Tee`nea.  
  
`I trust you are ready?´  
  
She loured eyeing the long sabre around Dyr`s waist.  
  
`We are ready and waiting.´ - Tee`nea answered with a grin.  
  
`In that case, may the fight begin!´  
  
They moved aside, watching their sons drow out the weapons. Only one of them will live to put it back into it`s sheets.  
  
Both of the Matrons knew what damage one obstinate male can cause to his House. Ocassionally even irredeemable.  
  
The whole city still remembered the event which occured almost two hundred years ago, when a single drow, Drizzt Do`Urden induced the fall of the House Do`Urden, at that time eight House of Menzoberranzan.  
  
By the drow rules, mentioning the name of the fallen House was forbidden. It never existed. But after that event, the ruling Matrons have come to an understanding: Every year a contest will be held, and every House with a male old enough to become a warrior was obliged to participate. That wasn`t an opened contest. Houses were picked out randomly, two by two. In utmost secrecy. Even the Matrons have been told only a day in advance.  
  
Unlike choosing Houses, fighting rules were simple. Actually, there was only one rule: Win or die.  
  
This guarantied a survival only of a true drow warrior. The one who wouldn`t hesitate to take away life. Everyone who was different was annihilated. And thereby every potential threat was cut down in the beginning.  
  
Literally.  
  
~~  
  
From the first moment Dyr started aggressively, trying to provoke Koranon into doing the same, hoping to wear him out. Attacks followed one by one, but Koranon parryed his every blow, not giving in to that tempo.  
  
He saw what Dyr was trying to do, but he had a plan of his own. `Go easy and look for his weak sides´ - was the first part of it. And it worked perfectly.  
  
Dyr was too hasty, his constant attacks were taking quite of his energy, while Koranon danced around dodging and parrying the blows.  
  
`How come I never saw you practising in Melee-Magthere?´ - Koranon asked while trying to avoid one extremely swift attempt to his life.  
  
`Because I never practised there. Our weaponmaster is twice as skillful as all of the Academy teachers are.´  
  
With closing of the sentence Dyr came at him again, this time even faster than before. But Koranon unexpectedly swerwed and took a strong swipe at him.  
  
`But did he teach you that sometimes is better to wait and observe?´ - he sneered, now having the situation under his control.  
  
It was becoming obvious that Dyr underestimated his opponent. His plan rebounded upon his head; Koranon was showing no signs of weariness.  
  
Unlike him, Dyr was out of breath. He tried to regain control with a series of quick, short attacks, but could hardly keep up the pace.  
  
Koranon forestalled his attempts and began with the counterattack.  
  
His sword flashed in front of Dyr`s eyes, cutting through his clothes and leaving a long blood line across his ebony chest.  
  
One glance at his stained sword made his own blood swirl inside. The piece of cold metal in his hand was raving mad, as if it somehow came to live. Repeating thrusts forced Dyr to retreat - he tripped and lost balance. Falling on his back, his grip loosened and the sabre clinked against the floor. He lay there, helplessly watching Koranon approaching.  
  
Koranon pressed the tip of his sword against Dyr`s neck.  
  
He won. It was over.  
  
As from a great distance his mother`s commanding voice came to his ears:  
  
`Kill him Koranon! Do it!´  
  
He turned head aside, looking for her face.  
  
She was burning with anticipation, her eyes demanding one thing only - to see blood dripping from that blade, to watch him struggle for his last breath.  
  
`Kill him, you fool!´ - she screamed again this time even louder.  
  
But he hesitated. A second longer than he should have. Dyr saw his last chance to turn the situation around. His hand slid down to his boot, reaching for the only thing that could save his life at that moment - a hidden dagger.  
  
In the next second he thrusted it`s blade up to the hilt into Koranon`s stomach.  
  
`Haven`t they taught you never to take eyes of your enemy?´ - he grined maliciously as he watched light disappear from Koranon`s eyes.  
  
`Idiot!!´ - Matron Quarya hissed watching the blood dripping on the floor, her son`s body following shortly after.   
  
Dyr stood there, with Koranon`s body lying in front of him, proudly smiling when both of the Matrons approached him.  
  
`I won.´ - he uttered, looking straight into Quarya`s eyes.  
  
`He was a better fighter than you are.´ - Quarya tarted.  
  
`But he wasn`t a killer.´ - Tee`nea spoke up. `The justice has been carried out. Lloth is gratified.´  
  
`Xas.´ - Quarya agreed with resignation.  
  
`Lloth tlu malla, jal ultrinnan zhah xundus!´  
  
~~  
  
`Let us go, Dyr.´ - said Tee`nea when their short prayer had finished.  
  
`You have to prepare yourself for your first asignment as a warrior. Don`t think it would be easy! ´ - she warned him.  
  
`A`dos quarth, Ilharess!´ - he bowed.  
  
`I`m looking forward to it!´  
  
An insatiable, blood-thirsty flame was lit inside his eyes.  
  
A warrior was born.  
  
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Disregard any possible grammar/spelling mistakes. I wrote this sometime around 3 am. Thanks to the gallons of black coffee! 


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